


Bloodied and bruised, I confess

by Edana_erised (Myriad_13)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Declarations Of Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Stucky - Freeform, oh look they finally got their act together fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myriad_13/pseuds/Edana_erised
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The emotion and love behind the statement hits Bucky like a freight train. All this time, both before the war and during it, and now for the past two years since he broke free of Hydra’s brainwashing, he thought he was the only one who had kept the truth to himself about how he felt about his best friend."</p><p>A short coda to the Civil War fight scene between Ironman and Cap&Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodied and bruised, I confess

**Author's Note:**

> This fic (my first in over a year, ayyyy!) is really just me being converted to the Stucky fandom and not knowing how to hold all these feels. Not beta read, all mistakes are my own :)

Everything aches.

Everything hurts, every nerve ending lit up with agony, and he knows that he’s most likely concussed and painted with bruises.

Steve Rogers doesn’t care. Not when he’s got his best friend ( _his lost friend, his other half, his Bucky)_ pressed to his side as they limp away from Tony Stark. They move on, silent, the sound of their ragged breathing loud in the Siberian compound. They’re almost to the entrance when Bucky grunts and whispers, “Steve.”

Steve nudges him over to the wall so he can prop himself up.

“Yeah?”

“Just…needed a breather,” Bucky murmured. Steve nodded, taking the chance to have a good look at Bucky. He grimaced at the stump of the arm, hot anger flaring up under his breastbone, but ignored the feeling. He stopped Tony. He’s not going to come after them so soon. He delicately traced the planes of Bucky’s bloodied face, fingers lingering over the imprint of a kick.

“Kicked in the head or not, I’m still prettier than you,” Bucky said, smirking.

The attempt at a joke makes the hollowness in Steve’s chest gape wider.

“I could have lost you. Again,” he said, words almost a sob.

Bucky’s eyes widen. “You didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t, but this was too many close calls. I lost you once, and it shattered me. I’m going to see to it that I don’t lose you ever again,” Steve promised, carefully gripping the sides of his friend’s face and looking intently into his blue eyes.

“You can’t promise that. There are too many people who want me either dead, or alive to use me as a weapon again,” Bucky replied quietly.

They silently acknowledge that Bucky isn’t wrong.

Steve hesitantly moves forward to rest his forehead against Bucky’s and just breathes in this scent, hidden beneath the tang of blood and gunpowder, letting it settle the adrenaline still running through him. He knows this is too close, this is revealing too much of himself and how he feels, and that the timing is so very poor. While Bucky might remember him, they are different people to who they used to be.

“Stevie,” Bucky sighed and shut his eyes, clutching him tighter. He takes the contact from Steve hungrily, relieved, too, that Steve retained his humanity and innate goodness, no matter where that moral core has landed them. The signs of Steve’s devotion to him have been clearly mapped out in the days since Bucharest, and Bucky is tired of fighting what he feels. “How far would you have gone for me? To save me?”

“To the end of the line,” Steve answered, no hesitation in his voice.

For the first time since Captain America rescued him from Zola’s lab in the Austrian Alps, Bucky feels like he wants to cry. He takes in a deep, shuddering breath.

“I’m not worth all this-“ he begins to repeat his words from before, but Steve cuts him off.

“You are. I should have said that before. You are worth every arrest, every cut, bruise, and heartache. There are many things I have given up and will continue to give up, Buck. But you are not one of them,” Steve blurted passionately, cupping Bucky’s face reverently and rubbing thumbs over the stubble and bruised skin.

The emotion and love behind the statement hits Bucky like a freight train. All this time, both before the war and during it, and now for the past two years since he broke free of Hydra’s brainwashing, he thought he was the only one who had kept the truth to himself about how he felt about his best friend. There is a cascading feeling of relief and disbelief that he could be lucky enough to have his secret wish to come true. Bucky trembled, and breathed out, saying, “You loser. You absolute loser. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Steve finally cracked a small smile. “Well, I never really intended for you to find out this way.”

“I adore you, you dumb punk. From the moment I saw you taking on bullies twice your size,” Bucky said.

“I loved you from the moment you gave up the money you had to buy new work boots for the medicine I needed, you know, back when I was 18 and caught the flu. That’s when I knew I was gone on you,” Steve replied, carefully moving in and placing a light kiss on Bucky’s parted lips. They gasp, both at the sensation of intimacy, and in pain from the cuts each has around their lips.

“We possibly have the worst timing of any people _ever_ in the history of the world,” Bucky chuckled, drawing back to smile at his _(pining post, forever friend, love, saviour_ ) Steve.

“We could go down as a modern tragedy,” Steve volleyed back.

They share silent smiles, and Bucky nuzzled into Steve’s neck. “We have to keep moving. It’s not safe here,” he reminded him.

“I know. I wish we had more time.”

Bucky nodded and stood up straight. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere that we can get horizontal. It doesn’t even have to be a proper bed. I’m so beat even this concrete floor looks inviting,” he croaked, willing his body to keep going just for a little longer. It helps that he is soaking in the peace from Steve’s presence, his kiss, in the knowledge that yes, they have feelings for each other.

Steve hums in agreement, turning to hoist Bucky’s arm over his shoulders again. “I think we can do better than a concrete floor,” he said.

They exit the compound to be met with a figure in black vivid against the snow.

They both still, tensing in preparation for another fight.

T’Challa raised his hands and stepped cautiously toward them. “I mean you no harm,” he said.

“I wish I could believe you, Your Highness, I do. But I’ve had a bit of a rough day and don’t know who to trust,” Steve shot back.

Bucky eyed the Black Panther warily, any happy and relieved part of him suddenly draining. It always came back to this. He was a weapon, part of a system that had led to so many deaths. He couldn’t truly blame T’Challa at all for expressing his grief in rage the way he did.

T’Challa nodded, and still came closer. “I am glad I followed you all here. I finally know the truth. Which, in my heart, is what I wanted to bring me peace. I have discovered the reason behind my father’s death, and I have captured the person responsible. I am not going to allow my anger to consume me, not anymore,” he proclaimed to them. “Sergeant Barnes, I now realise you were a victim of HYDRA, and Zemo, as much as my father was.”

“Thank you,’ Bucky replied, still disbelieving.

“Are you going to arrest us anyway?” demanded Steve, holding Bucky tighter to his side.

T’Challa’s eyes flicked between their faces, and where Steve was holding Bucky. “No. I am not. I wish to offer sanctuary,” he said finally.

The two supersoldiers glanced at each other. Steve raised an eyebrow and Bucky shrugged. Steve nodded and gave him a quick smile.

“Does that sanctuary include a bed by any chance?” Bucky asked hopefully.

T’Challa grinned back at him. “I think it can be arranged. It is my kingdom we are to go to, after all.”

Steve finally relaxed. He expected there to be conditions on the offer, but at the moment, with little options, he would take any olive branch he could get. He and Bucky limped together to the king, and he held out a hand for T’Challa to shake.

“To a fresh start,” he said.

“To a new beginning,” T’Challa agreed. Bucky echoed the sentiment, nodding at the king in lieu of shaking his hand. They headed off to the quinjet, T’Challa instructing them to follow his plane. Just before they boarded, Steve hesitated.

“We might have to make a few stops,” he said nonchalantly.

“A few stops?” echoed the Wakandan king.

 “Yeah, need to free a couple of friends from prison, nothing major,” Steve said, grinning.

“Oh my god, really? Can we sleep first, then go rescue more people?” Bucky complained, rolling his eyes, and then wincing because even _that_ hurt.

“Ok, sleep first, then rescue the rest of the team,” Steve agreed, T’Challa nodding to confirm the plan.

Up in the quinjet, Steve got Bucky situated in a chair, strapping him in securely. Bucky tangled the fingers of his remaining hand with Steve and drew him in, whispering, “Kiss me again, you wonderful idiot.”

“Only for my favourite jerk,” hummed Steve, laying another light kiss on his lips, gently moving from top to bottom lip and back again.

Bucky sighed, intending to remember every bit of this moment where he got the one thing he always wanted. Steve. Because even if his mind wasn’t screwed on right, he knew this was true and pure.


End file.
